Fuck passin' out, you hit this—, ayy, ShittyBoyz, Dogshit Militia Mm-mm, ayy Fuck passin' out, you hit this wood, you gon' pass away Back against the ropes, I'm turnin' into Cassius Clay You might catch me with some dead Presis, boy, my best friend Ben Think she gettin' over, I just left from her best friend' bed Out the door, I just left with her best friend's head You would think it's baddies with a dime and her best friend's tens Back to back 'Woods like Chris Tuck', you think my best friend's Chris If I ain't with Splash Bro, I can't leave with less than Steph Catch a red eye and then I hop into a red eye If we talkin' roman numerals, my bitch a XI Blowin' Zaga out in Paris, bitch, I'm French fried You ain't make a difference on the court, lil' bro, it's bench time Shrooms, juice, whip and Percs, this damn near a fent' high DSM'll take on anybody, bring yo' best five Take a pop and then I write a verse, I'm on my tenth line It's up to you to read 'em, gotta know the Godsent signs Rollin' candy, apple Jolly Ranchers, this a head high Dub on his head, might have a pulse, but he a dead guy You might think my nose bleedin', pourin' red lines You might think my nose bleedin', always keep my head high Before I say a word, gon' be in Crocs doin' fed time Swarmin' like some hornets, then we f-f-f Swarmin' like hornets, then I pull it like I'm Glen Rice I had them doits on the scalp like some headlights Freezin' up accounts, that ain't glass, boy, yo' checks ice She can't give me neck drivin' no more, I done wrecked twice What the fuck, Fordi? Where you find the red Sprite? If he don't meet the deadline, he a headline (Meech) Why you on my dick? Ain't it yo' bed time? I don't know about yo' quotas, but I met mine See it in his eyes, he just a cobra, I can sense slime Why the fuck you rap? Uh, man Why you rappin' 'bout goin' to Hutch? Ain't never spent five Triple-double in yo' city like I'm prime Westbrook 20K the shoku just to have a private chef cook I just hit the clerk with Sugar Ray Robinson's left hook That's a tuddy, boy, the play we ran was textbook Stayed by the glass like Gobert, we dropped the checkbook That ain't a dub, boy, them doves, I know how ten looks Why you tryna sell me oowops? I know how tens look If I stand on the pink 50s, bitch, I'm ten feet How I stand on business, you would think that I had ten feet Same me if I'm dolo or we ten deep Y'all lucky to be endin'